A Rose By Any Other Name
by Starjargon
Summary: Clint's wife is amazing. She's funny and passionate and kind. Neither she nor her work buddy Steve would ever hurt a fly, except for those kickboxing classes she's apparently taking. Yes, his Natalie Rushman is something really special. If only he knew how special...


**A/N: Written for Marvel Reverse Big Bang Secret Santa 2019**

**Please review.**

* * *

_Hanging Out_

Clint released the arrow, watching it shoot true.

"Whoo hoo! Tenth one in a row!" he yelled with glee. His friends and co-workers at Stark Industries: J, Sam, and Phil, all groaned as he began to do a victory dance, hollering as he jumped up and down. "Did you see that?! Eyes like a _hawk!_"

"Congratulations, you made a shot 60 yards away. You're a veritable sharpshooter," Sam replied dryly. J snorted and Phil rolled his eyes.

"I would have made it if it had been 600 yards. I'm the best!" Clint exclaimed, still doing a jig.

"You boys still measuring spitting distance or are you ready to eat?" called a sultry voice as its owner sauntered over.

"Babe, see that target over there? I hit it 10 times without missing!" Clint explained excitedly, wrapping his arm around her and pointing to the large circle they'd hung on a tree.

"That's great, Honey." Natalie patted him in encouragement. "But what are all those other arrows doing over there?" she asked curiously, pointing toward the trees surrounding the target with arrows sprinkled haphazardly throughout them.

"... 10 times, Nat!" Clint ignored his "friends" cackling at that remark.

"He only had to miss 22 before," remarked Sam before busting up again.

Natalie smirked, then patted Clint's face. "Well, I'm very proud you've gotten the hang of it, Hon."

"See, Natalie appreciates me," he told his friends in a very non-childish way.

"She has to, she's your wife," J quipped.

"Yeah, she is," Clint says, completely serious as he gave her a peck on the lips.

"Come inside," Natalie said, gazing at Clint lovingly. "Your lunch is getting cold."

"You cooked?" he asked incredulously.

"Sandwiches. So… your lunch is getting warm."

"There's the woman I fell in love with," he said, wrapping his arm around her and kissing her hair.

"And the man I think is pretty great. Even if he does stink at shooting."

"Hey!"

* * *

_Unfulfilled Dreams_

"Clint, I…"

"What's wrong, Nat?" he asked, seeing tears in her eyes no one else was ever allowed to see.

"I- There are dreams… Children. They can't be part of ours," she said, finally letting a tear fall.

He held her head, wiping away the tear before hugging her to his chest.

"I'm sorry, Nat. I know you were hoping for that."

"What about you?" she asked, burrowing into his chest.

"What about me?" he repeated. "Natalie, I don't love you because of some dream we only vaguely discussed a few times. In fact, I always thought… well, I know my past isn't genetic, but I'd always kind of saw myself with a kid who needed me. Someone who needed a second chance that the world… didn't think deserved one. Not that I wouldn't have loved to have a baby that was half you and half me! But, you rarely even talk to your parents and I… let's just say it's a good thing no child will ever meet mine."

She smiled softly at him, then leaned up to kiss him.

"I think you're not so bad yourself, Mr. Barton."

"Hmm. I'll take it Mrs. Barton. Besides, we could always get a dog…"

* * *

_You're Great at So Many things Except…_

"Nat, impressed though I am you decided to take on a meal as challenging as Christmas Dinner… are you sure you know how to… cook?"

"It's simple, Clint. You just follow the recipe."

"Umm… You sure you don't need any help? I'm pretty good with a knife, you know."

"Fine. You're on appetisers. I'm going to put the turkey in."

"Already?"

"The website said 3 ½ hours, Clint."

"Okay."

"What is that smell?" Steve asked.

"Hey, Hon?" called Clint, going into the kitchen and "... you said you've been cooking the turkey for 3 hours already?"

"Yes."

"Did you know you bought a pre-cooked turkey?"

"Yes, it was supposed to be easier," Natalie said, flitting around the kitchen in a frenzy, doing _what_ he couldn't say.

"Okay… Well, I'm pretty sure the time is different for a pre-cooked and frozen turkey, because this… was probably your bird. At one point," he said, pulling a charred, smoking lump from the oven.

"No! I was sure I'd read it right. Must be our oven," she said, trying to inspect it and see where it was broken. Clint pulled her back from the still hot, smoke-filled oven area by her hips, kissing her hair.

"Okay. Well. I'll take a look at it later. For now, we don't need turkey, we have all that other food you made and… we'll use macaroni and cheese as a main dish."

"For Christmas dinner?"

"Sounds delicious. And we can still eat everything else. I'm sure no one will even notice," he said with a smirk.

"Clint, I think your wife is trying to kill us," Sam said, choking as he tried to swallow a half a bite of macaroni and cheese. Even the unflappable Phil and ever- loyal Steve looked like they were a little green around the gills.

"How is everything?"

"It's delicious, Honey. Don't want to stop," Clint called, holding up a huge forkful with a smile, hiding it in a napkin when she turned away. "Guys, she worked really hard on this meal, please, _please_ just pretend to eat it."

"Clint… does she know you're supposed to boil the noodles before pouring cheese all over everything?" asked Phil, grimacing as he took an unsteady bite.

"Clint, man. You know I love you and Nat. But no man should go out this way."

"I've flown nearly 30 combat missions in a warzone. This meal kind of makes me wish I was back there right now," said Steve.

"You guys sure you have to leave already?" Natalie asked with a frown.

"Yeah, Hon, they have to get to the VA early tomorrow."

"I didn't think they'd be open."

"I need about 10 antacids following that disaster- I mean yes! The VA. Just because it's the holidays doesn't mean problems have stopped," Sam recovered when Phil bumped him in the ribs.

"And Phil?"

"I need him to… help… move… boxes. At the VA. Early in the morning. Which is why we have to leave now," Sam said as he felt his stomach rumble warningly again.

"Steve?"

"Oh! I was going to go… return a truck I borrowed. Doesn't seem right to still have it on Christmas day," he said awkwardly.

"You're a terrible liar."

"You got me! It's… gift related. Can't talk about it," he tried.

"Merry Christmas guys."

"Merry Christmas, you two. Thanks for… having us Nat," Phil tried to salvage the situation.

"What'd you think?" Natalie asked self-consciously.

"... I think everyone appreciated all the effort you put in to feed them. I know I did."

"But what'd you think of the dinner?" she prodded.

"I think you are one of the most talented and amazing women I know. And because you made the dinner, I will do the washing up. Go to bed, Nat. Tomorrow is all about you and me and spending Christmas together." He pulls her into a kiss and hugs her close to him. She goes up the stairs smiling. "And about hoping I still have a stomach left after your attempts to poison me and all our friends," he whispers, turning toward the pile of dishes in the sink, smiling at his ridiculous wife.

And so began the famous "Mac & Cheese" tradition in the Barton household (with _plenty_ of sides brought by guests…)

* * *

_Years of Practice_

"Babe! What happened?"

"Oh, Steve and Brock thought it'd be a great idea to try a kickboxing class after the conference. It's no big deal."

"No big deal- it's a black eye! And look at your lip! It looks like you got in a bar fight."

"You should see the other guy," she joked.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up. I'll have to talk to them about their aim if this is the state they leave you in."

"I'm fine, Clint! Really, it's worse than it looks," she batted away his inspecting hands.

"Well… did you at least have fun?"

"...It was the bomb," she smiled slyly.

"Wow. You've been hanging out with Steve too long if you're trying to bring that back." He rolled his eyes fondly, not noticing her wince as he threw his arm around her shoulders.

* * *

_The Big Revelation_

"Who's Natasha Romanoff?" he asked once the _gunfight_ had ended, and bashful _Steve Rogers_, of all people, had helped fight and then take away the many, many bad guys (Clint had no idea who they were, only that they were decidedly _not good_, Brock Rumlow was one of them, and they were trying to kill him, his wife, and her bumbling co-worker _Steve._ He was at least proud that he had more than held his own, disabling 3 of them by himself, before turning and seeing his sweet wife Natalie- no, Brock had called her Natasha- take out at least 3 times as many with barely breaking a sweat).

She looked up into his betrayed eyes and answered him with a pitying sigh.

"My earliest memory is as Natalya Alianovna Romanova- Natasha Romanoff. My codename is Black Widow. I'm the one called in to do the jobs no one else can or will do."

"So, you've killed people?" he looked into her eyes and amended at her look, "...a lot of people."

"I'll answer you Clint, only if you're really sure you want that answer."

"Black Widow is pretty self-explanatory. Does that also mean that you… I mean you… with men?"

"I don't spend the night with people. Or kiss them. Not anymore."

"So, you used to. How long since you last…?"

"Six years."

"Since we got engaged." He processed that, before another worry entered his mind. "So, was I just a mission?"

"Yes."

"Oh. I see," he tried to respect her honesty, even as he felt as though she had used one of her electrical bracelet things on his own chest instead of those men Steve had carried off.

"I was hired to see if you were sent to infiltrate Stark Industries. By any means possible. Someone had been sabotaging the company's works for years, they wanted to know if it was an outside source or someone within the company. You were an easy in," she explained, that look of _pity_ never leaving her eyes.

"So… what? You still think I'm a spy?"

"No. I think it's safe to say it wasn't you." She still tried to keep eye contact as she delivered the news that destroyed his life, until it became too much.

"Nah, I'm just the poor ex-soldier with PTSD you decided to play for a fool."

"It wasn't like that. Not after. Not when I said yes to you." He scoffed as he tried to separate the woman he knew with the woman he was… supposed to know, and his eyes watered as he realised he couldn't believe even the words of this woman he would have done anything for.

"Do you have any idea what it's like to be betrayed by the one person you thought you could trust most?"

She looked at him seriously for a moment, then answered.

"You should know that in fact, I do."

* * *

_Aftermath_

"So, what happens now?" Natasha Romanoff hedged carefully to her husband.

"Now?"

"With us?" she prodded, refusing to believe he would give up on them until she heard the words out of his own mouth.

"_Us_ was all a lie, _Natasha._ You're not the woman I thought I married. I don't even know who "Natasha Romanova" is. I fell in love with Natalie Rushman. My Nat was someone who didn't put up with my nonsense, who supported me, who was generous and funny and who wanted a family with me and was a terrible cook and who I knew how to make laugh and who could crack a joke at the most dire times and who I would trust to have my back no matter what. Someone whose every fear and dreams I knew most, who I loved to spoon late at night and cuddled on cold mornings and always did what had to be done and wanted to do it by my side. I _knew_ her. Better than I did myself. All I know about you is your name is Natasha and you're a spy who lied to me and used me."

"I did lie to you, Clint. About my name. My job. My intentions. But marrying you was real. _Loving_ you was real. And all those things you loved about Natalie? That was _me._ You fell in love with _me._ I'm that person. Just the details were a cover. You're the only one who saw beyond that- ever. The only person who ever just saw _me._ I don't want to let you go," she never thought she would beg any man for anything. Ever. Not until Clint. She would do a lot of things she never thought she'd do for him. _Please, _she thought with every fiber of her being, _please stay. Please want me._

When she looked up into his eyes, she already knew what would finally break the Black Widow. Two words from this man. And he was about to say them.

"I can't stay married to a lie," and she didn't know if she hurt more for him or for herself.

_No. Please, no._

"Goodbye, Natalie."

_He didn't even say her real name._

* * *

_Surprises_

"We have some new blood here today," Fury said, halting Steve and Natasha's sparring session. Which was just as well. Ever since Clint had sent papers with the words "Legal Separation," and moved out 6 months ago, training with Natasha had started to make even Steve sweat a bit.

She looked up to see 3 very familiar faces.

"This is Samuel Wilson. Codename Falcon. Flew pararescue and is trained in hand-to-hand combat."

"This is James Buchanan-"

"Bucky?!" Steve called.

"-Barnes. Codename Winter Soldier. Sniper, hand-to-hand combat, and stealth missions."

"And this is Clint Barton. Codename Hawkeye. Marksman, hand-to-hand combat, pilot. They have all agreed to help us go after the rest of Hydra. Stark has lent them and some of his best toys to us. And with the way things are, we need all the help we can get- so play nice." He looked to them, then went to speak with Stark Industries new liaison Phil Coulson.

Natasha felt as though she had been sucker-punched. Steve looked at her, put a comforting hand on her shoulder, then went to go speak with J- who he apparently knew as "Bucky," but Steve's past life could wait as she tried, unsuccessfully, to catch Clint's eye.

* * *

_New Beginnings_

"We have some new blood here today," Fury said, halting Steve and Natasha's sparring session. Which was just as well. Ever since Clint had sent papers with the words "Legal Separation," and moved out 6 months ago, training with Natasha had started to make even Steve sweat quite a bit.

She looked up to see 3 very familiar faces.

"This is Samuel Wilson. Codename Falcon. Flew para-rescue and is trained in hand-to-hand combat."

"This is James Buchanan-"

"Bucky?!" Steve called.

"-Barnes. Codename Winter Soldier. Sniper, hand-to-hand combat, and stealth missions."

"And this is Clint Barton. Codename Hawkeye. Marksman, hand-to-hand combat, pilot. They have all agreed to help us go after the rest of Hydra. Stark has lent them and some of his best toys to us. And with the way things are, we need all the help we can get- so play nice." He looked to them, then went to speak with Stark Industries' new liaison to SHIELD Phil Coulson.

Natasha felt as though she had been sucker-punched. Steve looked at her, put a comforting hand on her shoulder, then went to go speak with J- who he apparently knew as "Bucky," but Steve's past life could wait as she tried, unsuccessfully, to catch Clint's eye.

* * *

New Beginnings

She hadn't any luck speaking to him during training, but she was able to track down his SHIELD lodgings afterwards. She still hadn't figured out what to say- he was the only person in the world who had ever made her hesitate. He wouldn't know that. She supposed he wouldn't know anything.

"All I know about you is your name is Natasha and you're a spy who lied to me and used me."

Even if he wouldn't… whatever. Maybe one day he could forgive her.

She caught up to him just as the snow started falling as he left his apartment to… walk a dog?

"Hey," she said eloquently when he looked up at her.

"Hey," he replied, breath visible in the cold.

"Look... I don't know what we are to each-" she tried.

"Barton," he interrupted her.

"What?" she tried to figure out if he was distancing himself even further, if he didn't even want her to call him-

"Names' Clint Barton, Ma'am," he said, taking one hand off the top of the dog's head and holding out his hand, full of sincerity.

She looked down at his hand, then realised what he was doing. He wasn't demanding her distance. He was offering her a fresh start.

She looked up with a smile and held out her own hand.

"Natasha Romanoff," she said as she stared into his beautiful eyes, offering her true identity, her whole self to him this time.

"Beautiful name." It wasn't an accusation, just a sincere compliment.

"Thank you." She took the first real breath she had since July. She looked down at his furry companion. "Who's this?"

"Ah," Clint smiled- that sweet, mischievous smile of his. "Well Natasha, this is Lucky. And see, Lucky is in a bit of a predicament."

"And what's that?" she knew that playful tone, and looked up hopefully.

"Well, it's almost Christmas, see, and that's Lucky's favourite time of year. And as it stands now, Lucky here is all alone without the family he realised he needs and no terrible cooking to pretend to enjoy."

He huffed out a laugh at her scowl.

"I see. And does Lucky here have a favourite Christmas meal?" she continued the game he'd started.

"Well… he's always liked macaroni and cheese."

"For Christmas dinner?"

"Yup. See, that's his predicament. Lucky wants macaroni and cheese and nothing else, but he also knows that something so ridiculous for Christmas dinner is nearly impossible to find. Have any ideas?"

"Well, I've been told I make a killer mac and cheese. If Lucky's interested." She still stared hopefully up at him.

"Lucky can't think of anything better, Tasha."

"... I like you calling me that," she said quietly.

"I like you. Natasha, Natalie, Natalia, Nancy, whatever your name is. Turns out, I love you. And I'd like to try showing you how much. If you give me the chance."

"I don't always know my name. But I'd still like to prove that I'm worth that chance. If you still want me."

"In that case, I think I'd like to add one stipulation."

"What's that?"

"Let me do the cooking," he said, taking her face in both hands and kissing protestations, fears, and doubts away. He pulled back, then held her hand in his right and Lucky's leash in is left. "Let's go home, Mrs. Barton."

* * *

**The beginning is meant to inspire Clint's love and eventual mastery of archery, hence how he eventually becomes a "marksman." Semi inspired my Mr. and Mrs. Smith. I looked up turkey cooking times, but I've never cooked a pre-cooked turkey so it may be incorrect.**


End file.
